


courbes souples (trop belles avec le rouge)

by skydork (klismaphilia)



Series: Requests, Prompt Fills and Gifts [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Body Image, Body Worship, Chubby Hux, Embarrassment, Loneliness, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Frustration, Technically?, Touch-Starved, niche kink november
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-27 06:25:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8390695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klismaphilia/pseuds/skydork
Summary: (Of course, if Kylo Ren were to call upon these thoughts later, further into the month cycle, late at night when he’s lying atop the blankets with a hand between his thighs, it’s of no mind to anyone. Not even to himself, as he lies and falsely tries to dissuade the images.)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saltandlimes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandlimes/gifts).



> inspired by [this post and anon request on @saltandlimes' tumblr.](http://saltandlimes.tumblr.com/post/152320274846/imagine-kylo-actually-seeing-hux-in-his-undershirt)

For all intents and purposes, it should’ve been just another day. Routine, aboard the Finalizer, filled with little more than drab discussions, lectures and the pestering of Stormtroopers constantly murmuring about things they had no business discussing in the first place. Of course, it wasn’t as if Kylo had much  _ say  _ in what Stormtroopers were allowed to discuss…

 

He would’ve preferred it not to be wild, vexatious whispers about the tyrades their commanding officers were supposedly having, however.

 

It was a frustration to even hear the cacophony that left the mouths of officers and troopers alike, as far as Ren was concerned. Even more so, what didn’t leave their mouths- there was an endless stream of thoughts pouring into his head, clouding up all the vacant space with vile suggestions and depraved fantasies- it was often a wonder to Ren how so many of the officers were able to keep their lust at bay. He hadn’t exactly been so lucky himself; too many nights had been spent alone in his quarters, jerking his cock in rough, quick strokes until his thighs were painted with the evidence of his longing.

 

Solitude was overrated. The Knight hardly understood how anyone did it- particularly his own companions. One of the most comforting things he’d been gifted as a child was the press of his mother’s hand against his shoulder, or her arms around him on the few occasions he’d been allowed to return from his patronage on Coruscant, with Luke. Han was never around- had never been, and now Kylo thinks that it’s for that reason alone he was able to find solace in his mother’s presence.

 

Even if she disappeared, later on. Even if she saw him as little more that a scourge on her own legacy, the way Luke saw him as a stain on history to be wiped from the galaxy. Well, if anyone was a stain, it was that  _ blasted  _ man, kriffing  _ Luke Skywalker,  _ who had ruined him in so many ways it was hard to describe.

 

Kylo hardly noticed the way his hands had balled into tight fists as he leaned over the side of the bench, palms already slick with sweat that clung to the skin unpleasantly, bringing with it a current of self-loathing…  _ desperation.  _

 

Desperation that even now he wasn’t able to rid himself of the voice in his head, his own anger… the blood pooling under his fingernails and seeping down his long fingers, irritating to his flesh. He’d meant to come to the gym to  _ avoid  _ his problems- avoid Snoke, Ben Solo, the Stormtroopers, the force-damned  _ void  _ around them- and here he was, shoved back into the same corner of self-loathing and pity that he’d been pushed down in to begin with.

 

The sound of something clanging against the floor was enough to startle the Knight from his reverie, forcing him to jolt ever so slightly, if only to move his painfully aching calf from where it was placed astride the bench, glancing up momentarily. This was an unusual time for anyone to be using the Finalizer’s gym- hell, aside from Phasma, the number of officers who went to the gym on a regular basis were few and far between.

 

And that was when he spotted it- a flash before his eyes, like a signaling beacon, flickering somewhere between red and gold and causing Ren’s mind to haze with thought for a moment. He pursed his lips, frustrated, willing the unfortunate presence of fantasy-Hux away, shaking his head. Why would Hux be in the gym at midnight?

 

Actually,  _ why would Hux be in the gym in the first place? _

 

The glance over reveals the same glint of ginger hair, this time more askew than normal, enough to acknowledge, in Ren’s mind, that  _ yes, that is the General, and he’s taking off his unifo- _

 

_ Taking off his uniform. _

 

Kylo’s face nearly reddens, though he forces it down, telling himself it didn’t matter anyway; the General’s form was, in all likelihood, far from impressive if the scalding looks he gave Ren whenever he dared to walk the halls without a shirt were any indication. He hadn’t needed to read Hux’s mind to sense the jealousy; a near wave of it that was often thrown at those officers who were far more imposing than him. Though the General’s strategic ability may have been unrivaled in the First Order, his other assets-

 

He stops in his tracks.

 

Hux is clad only in an undershirt now, a pale grey that hugged his form, too close for what was probably recommended, in Ren’s mind. Still, it wasn’t the perceived difference from his uniform that was besetting, nor was it the sigh of Hux’s breath that he could hear from across the room…

 

It was the curve of his stomach.

 

If Ren wasn’t entirely in denial, he would’ve called it nice. Perhaps even attractive- because it  _ was.  _ The way it shifted as he turned around, a slight impression against the front of his sweats, which hung low on rather well-defined hips; there was a certain thickness, a definition there, something solid that Ren’s mind locked onto within seconds. A brief jiggle of the flesh when he turned around, the shirt riding up just enough to expose the trail between low waist to navel… clearly outlining his pale belly in a manner that was all too pleasant.

 

If only the shirt had been white; if only there was a manner of seeing him more exposed, more intimately. Ren’s hands resting on the softness of the flesh around his middle, pushing into the indent of his waist, even squeezing. He could imagine the way his abdomen would quiver, press in further, Hux’s short intake of breath when he did so, a blush smattering his cheeks as he hurried to pull his coat back on-

 

The thought could hardly be amended. And certainly not with the red hue that had overtaken a good amount of his visage as Kylo pulled himself together, struggling to find some sort of composure.

 

Kylo Ren had never longed for the shroud of his mask as much as he did in that moment.

 

But it’s worse, when Ren reaches down to grab hold of his water bottle yet again, that he finds himself not wanting to look  _ away.  _ And he wouldn’t, if given a choice, because the second his eyes flit back up he’s being greeted with a perfect view of Hux’s supple backside, watching as he bends over just enough to stretch his body out and touch his toes. And  _ by Snoke, that is a glorious ass.  _ Just the right amount of bounce, and he’s certain that it feels better, would feel better, to slide hands along those round globes and tease the ample flesh he’d find there- it’s clearly not muscle, no, it’s all  _ flesh, fat even,  _ and Kylo wonders how red with would be if he were to pinch it. He could imagine kneading it between his fingers, soft... perfect.

 

Even then, as Hux leans upward into a higher stance, hands over his head and arms extending, crossing over the opposite shoulder as he attempts to ease the tension in his muscles, the most beautiful thing would have to be his thighs. The waist that didn’t bulge, yet didn’t run flat either, wasn’t taut and wasn’t heavy, was somewhere in between, pleasantly chubby as it stretched to the press of his thighs…

 

It’s those- Kylo searches his mind for the proper term-  _ love handles.  _ He wants to hold on, tight, sink fingers in, tug him close and roll Hux on top of him, caress the curve of his abdomen and the arch of his waist, that perfect, plump ass that he’d be able to part and clutch and play with. He wonders, carelessly, if Hux was loud.

 

Another thought, which echoes the coalescence of ideas:  _ is his cock thick as well?  _ Surely, Kylo could imagine, Hux had a decent girth; it would look pretty in his hand, slim fingers running along something with more substance. Kylo has to question if he masturbates- how often he’d do it, how flushed he’d become, if he’d grow flustered like a child about to be punished. 

 

Kylo steadies himself at the sound of something hitting against the floor, a thud from in the direction of the General, as he seems to lower to the ground, on his knees, momentarily slipping out of sight. Even then, the image is tattooed on the backs of his eyelids; a waistband pressing into his lower body, too tight, leaving the modest image of a substantial silhouette, just over the cinch, just under it…

 

There’s too much to take in, at once. He wants to run fingers over every inch of the General, write on him like a book and spread him open, get his own mouth around that wide, luscious cock, sink teeth into that pretty rear… it would be too lovely, too much to acquaint himself with…

 

Kylo notices too late the bulge that’s formed in his own pants, extending the fabric as his length gives a twitch in commendation- too much to agree upon, too much. He wants those thighs astride his hips, wants to bruise them and grip them so tightly, with a fervor that goes unrivaled even in training.

 

_ I’m fucked. _

 

He reaches down, slides fingers around the handle of a bag and quickly levitates the weights from his activity back onto their holding post with the assistance of the Force. Tossing the meager holder of his belongings over one shoulder, the Knight of Ren wipes his brow and glances toward the slightly-smoldered metal of the door.

 

It’s a better idea for him to leave now than anything else. Better for him to not get trapped in the ebb and flow of desires that will never come to fruition. Kylo blames it on loneliness- on however long it’s been since he last had a partner, last had someone to reciprocate his touch, to hold him and mark him and bury themselves inside him or spread themselves before him with mutual need. Too long, without any type of intimacy, and that’s the only motivation behind these absurd thoughts for his co-commander.

 

_ (Of course, if Kylo Ren were to call upon these thoughts later, further into the month cycle, late at night when he’s lying atop the blankets with a hand between his thighs, it’s of no mind to anyone. Not even to himself, as he lies and falsely tries to dissuade the images.) _

 

_ (More so: They’ll be there a long while, if his erection is any indicator. A fond memory- filthy as the voyeurism likely was.) _

 

He turns on his heel, the towel slung around his neck, broad shoulders bearing an unusual stiffness that Kylo can't seem to chalk up to anything in particular. The soreness isn't external… it encompasses the broiling heat underneath his skin, the spark that's infiltrated his head, turned his thoughts in a manner they were never meant to go.

 

Momentarily, Kylo wonders if Hux has ever considered an intimacy with him in this manner. He wonders, if beneath that facade of callous determination, the General longs for touch as he so often does.

 

The steps taken to cross the room seem more momentous than usual; Ren’s head is swimming listlessly, though all thoughts seem to have been diminished and impressed until he couldn't hardly think at all. His mind is echoing the sound of footsteps across a sturdy floor, the thought of returning to his quarters and passing out in the mess of blankets and sheets that is his bed… 

 

A soft press against him, of fabric on bare flesh, and it's only a moment before the force-user’s head is shooting up, a hand snapping out to brace against an arm that jerks a bit at the touch, shaky breath hot across his face as he snaps his head to the side-

 

It's  _ him.  _ Hux, and Ren’s hand is on his arm, squeezing. Glancing down, the man can clearly see the perfect contours and outlines of his body, thighs pressed tight together and heavy rasping causing his soft abdomen to extend and decline with each moment.

 

“Ren,” the man acknowledges, with a nod, haughty, before removing himself from the Knight’s solid grasp, his eyes glinting with something nearly mischievous- his leg brushes against Kylo’s, faint, the friction all too great and all too fleeting. Hux’s eyes linger on his face, a knowing quirk of the lips remaining the single image of the evening that will haunt Kylo most.

 

Kylo says nothing as the metal slides open, allowing Hux to pass through without so much as a glance behind him, plunging Kylo Ren into his head once again.

 

He's alone.  _ Alone,  _ and though nothing should have changed, something feels as though it's been broken, taken from him without a chance for reclamation. Perhaps it was that teasing glance, or the faintest hint of a smirk, the press of warm skin to his, the need to further touch and taste and hold…

 

_ Completely fucked- beyond fucked.  _ The only thing Ren can even contemplate is returning to his room, ripping off his own pants and fucking his hand until he’s a mess, cum decorating his thighs and face pressed into a pillow to muffle the moans of Hux’s name. It’s a dancing, radiant feeling that climbs out of his gut to overwhelm him, making him wish for nothing more than that body pressed flush against his, pinned between his weight and the mattress, quivering and  _ begging. _

 

After a few moments, Ren’s own lips find themselves tugging upward into a grin, anticipatory, knowing.

 

_ The sound of a slight laugh, chiding. Scolding, as if he was a child, but in such a rich manner it dominated every inch of his headspace that was formerly vacant. Further, a hand fisting in bright red locks, lips on a pale neck, bruises staining the skin with brilliant blues and purples… his  _ **_name,_ ** _ a breathless whimper, a demanding groan. The door to his quarters sliding open, a uniform folded and pressed onto the stand beside the bed, smooth skin revealed with every inch pulled away… _

 

He laughs.

 

_ Perhaps I need to better acquaint myself with the General.  
_

**Author's Note:**

> saltandlimes apparently has a birthday on 11/2 but i couldn't resist posting this when i finished it.  
> anonymous user come forth, i'd like to tag you too ^^
> 
> hope you guys enjoy this? i got too excited while writing it.
> 
> .  
> .  
> .
> 
> i did change the ending a bit...  
> i mean, Hux doesn't have to read Kylo's mind to know he wants him ;)


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